


The Wrong One

by daddymenrah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex, Smut, fucking your fwbs dad, is it really cheating tho??, it happens to the best of us, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29877579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddymenrah/pseuds/daddymenrah
Summary: Disclaimer: I wrote this some years ago and did not finish it, and likely never will.
Relationships: John Winchester/Original Female Character(s), John Winchester/You
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

Waking up in Dean’s apartment was strange to say the least, let alone when he wasn’t there. Grabbing blindly behind you, you feel that the space next to you in his bed is empty. You sit up, wiping your eyes and regaining your bearings. You’re still totally naked, and thirsty. You hear noise from outside the bedroom and decide to get up, finding your panties and throwing one of his large t-shirts over the top.

Padding out of the bedroom, you deduce the noise is coming from the kitchen and the corners of your lips quirk up. Breakfast? This was new. You hadn’t been sleeping with Dean for long and you’d been clear that it was strictly casual, which he’d happily agreed to, given his turbulent lifestyle. Despite this, you wouldn’t object to breakfast, as long as it didn’t become a regular thing. 

“Morning.” You sigh upon entering the dining and kitchen area. “What’s cooki-“ Your sentence halts abruptly when your brain registers that whoever is stood at the stove is not Dean. You’d never seen this man before, as he turns around you take in his appearance. Slightly taller than Dean by the looks of it, and significantly older, judging from his hair and beard laced with silver. There’s something still oddly familiar about him. 

“I wasn’t aware Dean had company.” The man chuckles, his amused smile reached his dark brown eyes that were framed by glasses.   
“Neither was I.” You reply, folding your arms across your chest.   
“Who might you be?” He asks, clearly bemused.   
“Isn’t that my line?” You counter, not enthusiastic about making friends in your fuck buddy’s apartment. 

“Ooh I wouldn’t say so. This is my son’s apartment. Surely that makes me more entitled to be here than you.” He smirks, you’d be offended if you weren’t so shocked, and a little distracted by his looks.   
“You’re Dean’s dad?” You blurt, not intending to sound as horrified as you did. The man bursts out laughing.   
“Should I be flattered or offended?” 

“I’m not sure myself to be honest.” You reply, fiddling with Dean’s shirt in a feeble attempt to protect your modesty.   
“I don’t suppose you were planning on running into me, huh.” His eyes rake over your body. Your cheeks burn, and so does something deep in your stomach that you try your best to ignore.   
“No, or I might have worn something more fitting for the occasion. Or not have been here at all.” You catch yourself rambling nervously and shut your mouth tightly. 

“Oh what you’re wearing fits just fine.” He jokes, averting his eyes and returning to what he was doing. “Coffee?” He offers.   
“That’d be lovely.” You accept, albeit a little stiffly.   
“John, by the way. John Winchester.”   
“Y/N.” You have no idea what to do, so you simply watch as the older man fixes two mugs of coffee, pausing to ask how you like it. 

He finishes up and walks towards you, handing you your mug. Now he’s right in front of you, you can truly appreciate how good looking he is. You see where Dean gets it from, though you have to admit, you find John somewhat more attractive.   
“Sit.” He smiles, dimples denting his cheeks. You accept his offer and sit at the small dining table with him, pulling Dean’s t-shirt under your ass. 

God knows why you didn’t politely excuse yourself and haul ass to the bedroom to get dressed and make a swift exit. You were sitting half naked with your FWB’s dad sipping coffee, which was very well made, for the record. John surveys you curiously, observant eyes watching your every move. It makes you uncomfortable, you feel as though he’s peering into your soul and uncovering all your dirty secrets. 

“Now, I’ve made you some coffee, Y/N. Care to tell me a little more about who you are and why you’re here?” John says, his tone isn’t accusatory or threatening, simply interested. This doesn’t seem protocol to you, but you sigh and resign yourself to fate. You have a feeling he would know straight away if you were lying so you decide to tell the truth. 

“Dean and I have been, erm, hanging out. I stayed over last night and I guess he neglected to mention that you would be here today.” You explain, shifting in your seat. John grins, straight, white teeth gleaming.   
“Hanging out, huh?” He shakes his head in amusement. “Dean always did have good taste.” Your eyes widen, is he flirting with you?

But all humour suddenly disappears from his face, a frown taking over.   
“But he left you here all by yourself?” John clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Not what I’d expect from a son of mine.” You cock your head in confusion. Was it really that unforgivable that Dean had left you sleeping while he went to work?

“I mean Dean has a job, well obviously you would know that, I guess he didn’t wanna wake me up.” You shrug.   
“Is he expecting you to be here when he gets home?” John asks.   
“Wow, going straight for the kill.” You mutter, John laughs again. You meet his gaze, only feeling more and more embarrassed as the encounter drags on. “No, but to be honest I personally don’t want to be here when he gets home.” 

“And why’s that?” John asks, feigning innocence. You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he’s trying to get from you.   
“Because we’re not anything serious, like I said, just ‘hanging out’.” John smirks at your admission.   
“So it’s that kind of ‘hanging out’.”  
“I assumed that was fairly obvious.” You mumble. 

“Hey, no need to be sarcastic.” He scolds you playfully. “I’m just wondering where he’s going wrong here.” You squint at John, this conversation is getting more and more confusing by the second. He registers your lack of understanding and rests his hands on the table. “You’re ‘hanging out’ right?” You nod. “So you’re having sex?” 

You shut your eyes, cheeks pink. You nod begrudgingly.   
“Then clearly my son is fucking up somehow.”   
“How do you figure?” You press, interested in what he has to say.   
“Because if it were me, I know damned well you’d want to be there when I got home from work.” Your mouth falls open. 

“Don’t look so damn shocked, girl. You should be craving more, not itchin’ to leave.” You have no idea what to say, this man is old enough to be your father and he’s making you fidget more than Dean ever has with words alone.   
“I really don’t know that he’d be too happy that we’re discussing this stuff.” You feebly attempt to change the subject, becoming increasingly hot under the collar.

John’s lips quirk up in a playful smile.   
“I thought you said you guys weren’t anything serious?” He air quotes you and you cringe internally.   
“We’re not… But you’re his dad?”   
“Exactly. I’m his dad, and it’s clear he needs a lesson or two in how to keep a woman wanting more.” 

You sigh, averting your gaze.   
“I’m not entirely sure there’s anything you could teach Dean that would make me want to stay. Neither of us are looking for a relationship.” John smacks his hand against the table as if you’d hit the nail on the head, but you were still lost. He leans across the table, speaking in a low voice.   
“And what I could teach Dean would have you ready for a ring.” 

Your thighs flex at his words, mind suddenly racing with all the things he could possibly mean. If you thought Dean was dangerous, this man was deadly. You’re not entirely sure what possesses you to say what you say next.  
“Such as?” John’s eyes grow dark. His smile no longer playful, but suggestive.   
“Sweetheart, I haven’t even touched you and you’re already itchin’ to know what I could do to you.” 

John’s hand slides from the table top and reaches underneath it to rest on your thigh.  
“You wanna find out?” Your eyes flash between his hand and his face. He’s staring at you intently, waiting for your response. You manage to nod shakily. The intense moment between the two of you is interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. 

“Hello?” You hear Dean from the hallway. John immediately retracts his hand with a wink and sits back in his seat. You simply remain in position, still jittery. When Dean enters the dining area and sees you and his father drinking coffee, his eyes widen in horror. “Dad? Y/N? The hell are you guys doing?”   
“Well I ran into your pretty friend when I stopped by to grab some things.” 

“So you decided to sit and have a damn chat with her?” Dean groans, John simply shrugs, smiling innocently up at his son. “You’re so embarrassing.” It would have been amusing to see Dean squirming like a teenager if you hadn’t been completely under John’s spell mere moments ago.   
“It’s fine, Dean, really. He even made me coffee.” Your statement is not an attempt to comfort Dean, and it has the desired effect. 

“Shall I just leave you two to it?” Dean sighs, moving to the fridge to grab some left overs.   
“Please, we were having a blast before you interrupted.” John jokes, but his eyes are on you as he speaks, not Dean.   
“No need to fight, guys. I’m gonna shower and leave once I’ve finished this coffee.” You reassure the two, mostly Dean. 

Dean shoots a glare at his father then nods at you.   
“I’ll text you.” And with that, he leaves his apartment again to go back to work. You let out a breath of relief that you didn’t even realise you were holding.   
“So about that shower?”


	2. Chapter 2

“So about that shower?” John suggests, the flirtatious tone back in his voice.   
“Hilarious. You’re just as dangerous as your son.” You mutter, getting up from the table. Dean’s arrival had dissipated the horny stupor that John had induced, and you could think clearly. As you walk towards Dean’s bedroom, leaving John at the table, he calls after you.   
“I know you I’ve got you curious doll.” You pause, considering it for a split second, then Dean’s face flashes through your mind.

You carry on walking in the direction of the en suite in the bedroom.   
“Not curious enough.” You retort and close the door behind you. At some point during your shower you hear the front door closing and breathe a sigh of relief. John was a whirlwind. It was very clear where Dean got his finesse when dealing with women, the apple had fallen about a centimetre from the tree. John was right, you were curious, but it was just so questionable. 

But then, the fact his own son’s dick had been inside you really didn’t seem to bother John, he was after a piece himself. You wondered whether that was the type of man he was, but then remembered how polite he’d been initially, and the fact he’d made you coffee.   
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You mutter to yourself. Of course, he was polite and courteous, he wanted a one-way ticket to your pussy. 

Your mind was in two. One half was sceptical, suspicious that he was just a dog. The other half, that was desperately fighting to overpower the other side, wanted to believe that he was different, and possibly better in bed than Dean. When he’d been flirting with you, you’d become so caught up that you had totally forgotten whose apartment you were even in. It was shameful to be frank, but you couldn’t help but wonder about the things he was suggesting he could do to you. 

Eventually you turned the water off and towelled yourself off and left the bathroom. Trying as hard as you could to keep John out of your head, you got dressed and grabbed your stuff, ready to go home. Busy thinking about groceries you needed to grab on your way back, you almost missed the note on the table. It was a hastily torn scrap of paper with a number scribbled on it and you cursed aloud. Below the number was a name and a message.   
‘John. Call me when you see sense.’ You hesitated, glancing frantically between the note and the door, before groaning in frustration and stuffing the note in your purse. 

“Fucking Winchesters.” You growl as you slam the door behind you. 

KEEP READING  
*

A few days later you’d managed to forget about the incident at Dean’s. It would pass your mind every now and again, especially when you were bored at work, but you’d kept the fantasies under control. That evening, while sat on the couch drinking a beer, you received a text from Dean apologising about his dad. You rolled your eyes and texted back that it wasn’t a problem. Your phone vibrated yet again.   
‘Are you busy tonight?’ 

It was strange for Dean to invite you over any time before 9. Looking at the clock you saw it was only just coming up to 7. Eyeing up how little of your beer was left you contemplated whether or not you were in the mood for sex. It took you mere seconds to come to the conclusion of yes and downed the dregs. You glanced down at your outfit of leggings and a band tee and decided that was sufficient but changed your underwear into something a little fancier.

Slipping a pair of sneakers on, you grabbed your keys and purse and left your apartment. You shouldn’t really have driven since you’d had two beers, but the drive only took 10 minutes. There was a fair amount of traffic, which came as a surprise, but you took it as an opportunity to blast some of your favourite songs and get yourself in the mood. It was warm out and your windows were down, the subtle breeze flowing through your car keeping you cool. 

The atmosphere was actually pretty pleasant, and you found yourself in a rather agreeable mood. Pulling up outside Dean’s apartment complex you found a space quickly enough and buzzed to be let in.   
“It’s open.” Dean’s voice sounded a little odd over the receiver, somewhat deeper, but you ignored it and made your way up in the elevator. You tapped your foot awkwardly to the cringy elevator music, avoiding eye contact with the other woman in the car who was watching you suspiciously. 

The ding of the bell signalled you to leave, securing your bag on your shoulder you strode down the hallway to Dean’s door. He lived in a pretty nice apartment complex considering he was only a mechanic. You opened the front door and stepped inside, kicking your shoes off by the door.   
“Hello?” You called out and headed into the living area. The sight that greeted you nearly gave you a heart attack. 

John was reclined on the couch, feet up on the coffee table as he swigged a beer.   
“Hey sweetheart, long time no see.” He joked, the low rumble of his voice giving you goose bumps.   
“What are you doing here?” You ask, wondering what exactly was going on.   
“Well see, I’m just visiting my son before I leave town for a while. Is that okay with you?” He snorts sarcastically. Dean enters the room, the look on his face apologetic and noticeable hints of embarrassment.   
“Sorry, he came about 5 minutes before you did. I texted you.” 

You glance at your phone.   
‘Sorry, my dad came over. You might wanna stay at home.’   
“I was driving.” You mutter. John jumps up from the couch stretching out his back.   
“Is it a problem? We could order a pizza and hang out?” He puts a certain emphasis on ‘hang out’ that makes you cringe, he was forcing you to remember what you discussed in your first conversation with him. 

“Really, dad?” Dean replies, eyebrows cocked. His posture is stiff and almost uncomfortable.   
“Come on, Dean, grow up. We’re all adults here. Besides, I might not see you for a while after this.” Dean’s expression changes after he says that. You can’t quite read it, it’s not a face you’ve ever seen him make before.   
“Where are you going?” You ask absentmindedly. 

John smiles wistfully.   
“Business.” Is his simple reply. “So, where’s good to order pizza around here?” 

Two large pizzas and a lot of beers later, the three of you are sprawled out all over Dean’s living room, listening to music and laughing. You’re surprised at how the evening progressed from incredibly awkward to, admittedly, really fun. Dean had definitely gotten his sarcastic sense of humour from his father, and the two of them were hilarious to listen to. John told plenty of embarrassing stories about Dean in high school that made your stomach hurt from laughter. 

With the clock moving closer and closer to 11, Dean rubbed his flushed cheeks.   
“I’m fucking drunk, man.” You laugh at his admission and elbow him playfully.   
“Weakling.” He glares at you, but he’s so intoxicated he can’t muster any anger behind it. He gets up and stumbles towards the bathroom.   
“I thought I raised him with better tolerance than that.” John shakes his head. It seems the alcohol has hardly touched him. You on the other hand feel rather wobbly but refuse to make a fool out of yourself in front of either of the Winchester men. 

“We drank quite a bit.” You admit, eyeing the empty bottles scattered around the room. John chuckles.   
“You don’t seem too trashed.”   
“I’m more trashed than I look, I’m just better at controlling myself.” You admit, laughing.  
“Well kudos to ya doll.” John grins, cracking open another beer. 

You glance over in the direction of the hallway.   
“Dean’s been in the bathroom a while.”   
“He’s probably gone to bed, knowing him.” He shoots you a pointed look. “You scared to be alone with me or somethin’?” You raise your hands in surrender.   
“Not at all.” John edges closer to you, moving to sit on the couch at your side. Normally you would have stiffened, but the alcohol has made you completely relaxed. 

“You don’t seem so wound up.” He observes.   
“I’m drunk.” You respond simply.   
“Too drunk to consider my proposition?” You sit up immediately at his sobering statement. You glance between the bedroom door and John’s eyes. They’re much darker than Dean’s, a deep whiskey colour. They looked like they might shine like liquor on ice if the light hit them.   
“Dean is literally in the other room.”   
“The kid is sloshed.” John laughed. 

You stare at him incredulously.   
“He’s also had sex with me multiple times!”   
“I’m aware.” John smirks. You cross your arms in an attempt to look serious despite your drunken state.   
“And that doesn’t bother you?” John sighs and sits back in his seat.   
“I’ve done far more questionable things in my life, I’m a grown ass man. Of course it doesn’t bother me.” 

A silence falls momentarily between the two of you before John breaks it.   
“I think you’re wasted on Dean. Sure, he’s my son, but I know the kid can be an asshole when it comes to women. I think you could do better.” He admits, not looking at you as he does so.   
“And you’re better?” Your response comes out a little more sceptically than you’d intended it to, but John isn’t fazed.   
“Of course I am. I made him ‘n’ raised him, I taught that little shit everything he knows.” He slow smirk spreads across his face. “I know damn well I can fuck better than him.” 

You can’t help but look a little horrified.   
“How would you know that?”   
“Because if he was that damn good you wouldn’t be so interested in me.” He has a point. John had a certain appeal that Dean just didn’t have, he was like a vintage wine, full of depth and a myriad of flavours. You wanted to taste him.   
“I’m not interested in you.” You lie. 

John snorts.   
“I know you have my number. You haven’t texted because you’re still fightin’ with the idea in your head. You also don’t wanna come off too eager.” Your mouth falls open slightly at his accuracy, unable to hold back your reactions. “Like I said, I got experience.” He sips his beer. “You also wouldn’t have stayed once you found out I was here.” Your shoulders slump, despite your attempts to maintain some level of aloofness, he has you down to a T. 

He rests a hand on your thigh, making you jump.   
“You can’t get a thing past me, doll.” He begins to caress your thigh gently and the internal battle begins again. Dean is quite literally in the next room, but it feels so good and frankly, you’re a little too drunk to care. You manage to look at John, his eyes are sliding up and down your body, taking it all in. He looks hungry and the sight alone is making you wet. 

Maybe it’s the copious amount of beer in your system, or perhaps the gradual soaking of your underwear thanks to John’s low, rumbling voice and his hand steadily stroking your thigh, each time sliding higher up your leg, but your resolve is slipping away fast. You lock eyes with him, and it’s your fatal mistake. He leans closer and as if on autopilot, you mirror his movements. His other hand comes up to rest on your cheek. The action is soft, but the message is clear, John is in control. Your lips press together and instantaneously, you realise the reason behind John’s cockiness. 

He takes his time, unlike Dean, who generally just rips your clothes off and gets straight to the fucking, which isn’t really a problem since you don’t really do slow and sensual with your casual partners, but the change of pace is a welcome one. You’re forced to take a moment to enjoy exactly what he’s doing to you, to register the effects on your entire body. His kiss is assertive, but not harsh, dipping his tongue into your mouth every so often to dance with yours. He’s likely the best kisser you’ve encountered, every other aspect of him only enhancing the experience, the scrape of his stubble, the steady hold he has on you, physically and mentally. 

Your hands reach up to his shoulders, gripping them as he kisses you, as if to keep yourself rooted in reality. You feel him smile into the kiss, and you know he’s internally praising himself for finally breaking you. It didn’t take him long to be fair. He pulls away, tilting your head back so he can gain access to your neck, he runs his nose from your collarbone to the bottom of your ear, inhaling deeply. Your entire being heats up with shock and arousal, no one had ever done that to you before. You felt like a vulnerable gazelle getting sized up by a hungry lion, the pride male. He was hungry, and he was going to devour you. 

He began to lick and suck your neck, the hand that was originally touching your thigh was making its way up your waist to your chest. You aren’t sure what to focus on as his thumb brushes your nipple through the fabric of your bra and you gasp. His teeth graze the nape of your neck before biting down and eliciting a moan from you.   
“Keep it down baby girl, don’t want Dean hearing you.” John warns, his voice so low it comes out like a growl. All you can do is nod dumbly as he continues playing with you. 

You’re uncomfortably wet, and all you want is for John to fuck you right there on the sofa with his son sleeping in the other room, but he insists on teasing you further. He moves your thigh further apart from the other, creating enough space for him to rub you through your pants. You silently praise yourself for wearing leggings, feeling far more than you would if it were a thicker, stiffer material. His mouth returns to yours to keep you from making noise as you begin to moan quietly. 

His thumb hits your clit in a way that drives you insane and you groan into his mouth.  
“Please John.” You whine, grinding against his hand. He chuckles at how needy you’ve become, he’s about to reply when you both hear the sound of the bedroom door opening. The two of you jump apart as if you’d experienced an electric shock, mentally cursing Dean for ruining the moment. 

The interruption shuffles into the living area, rubbing his eyes sleepily.   
“Musta passed out in there.” Dean mumbles, he looks at the pair of you quizzically. “You guys are still up?”   
“You only have one bed, Dean.” You say, sounding a little harsher than you meant to.   
“Shit that’s true. You need me to call you a cab or something?” You roll your eyes at him. John shakes his head.   
“She can’t get a cab alone at this time, Dean.” He sounds genuinely disappointed in his son. “You of all people should know that.” 

Your mind struggles to figure out what John means by that, but you don’t get the chance.   
“Y/N take the bed, we’ll take the couches.” Dean offers, you can only nod and bid the pair of them good night, pissed that Dean had left you with the female equivalent of blue balls. Upon entering Dean’s bedroom, you shut the door and sigh in frustration. You shove your leggings down and leave them on the floor, then remove your bra and get into bed. 

You consider getting yourself off to relieve the frustration, aware of your phone on the bedside table that you could use to find something to aid you with, but eventually decide to sleep off your sexual frustration. Images of what transpired between you and John flash through your mind before you finally drift off to sleep.

*

That morning you woke to the sound of John and Dean laughing in the kitchen. Your mind rewound you through the events of the night and you shook your head in disbelief. Now sober, you scolded your lack of restraint. Raking your fingers through your hair to attain some semblance of put-togetherness, you got out of Dean’s bed and put on your bra and leggings. You went to the bathroom to double check your appearance and gave up on your hair, opting to put it up instead. You exited quietly and wandered to the kitchen. 

You were about to join the pair in what smelled like breakfast when you caught your name in their conversation. You paused, listening in shamelessly.   
“How much does she actually know about you?” That was John’s voice, he sounded concerned, your eyebrows furrowed. Dean sighed audibly.   
“It’s not like that between us, dad. She’s cool and everything but it is just…”  
“Sex?” John finished for him, she could just imagine the disgust on Dean’s face.   
“Yeah.” 

They were quiet for a moment.   
“And you don’t plan on telling her?” John continues.   
“No? Why would I do that?”   
“I was just checking.” You wished that they would just explicitly say what it was that Dean was hiding from her, her curiosity was piqued. You wonder whether or not to come out just yet, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping. You decide to wait a moment longer. 

“So, what is it this time?” Dean asks his father.   
“Nothing I can’t handle. It’s in Fresno so I might call Sam and see if he wants to help out.” You know that Sam is Dean’s younger brother who is studying at Stanford, apparently the brains of the family.   
“You’ll be lucky if he even answers, he’s too busy to even text me these days.” Dean sounds almost bitter.   
“The kids in his final year, what do you expect, Dean?” 

You decide that the conversation isn’t going to get any more interesting from here, so you step out, pretending you’d just arrived by stretching exaggeratedly.   
“Morning guys.” You greet them, yawning. John stands and pulls a chair out for you.  
“You hungry, Y/N? We made breakfast.” You’re a little taken aback by how attentive he’s being but nod.   
“Yeah I am actually, thank you.” You smile at the older man.   
“I’ll fix you up a plate.” John turns to the stove to grab you a serving of whatever it was they’d made. 

You look at Dean and he’s watching his dad with a strange look on his face, almost suspicious.   
“What did you guys talk about last night after I passed out?” He asks. You freak out a little, taken off guard by the question, but John replies without missing a beat.   
“Y/N was telling about her job, sounds like she makes more money than you.” John teases and it has the desired effect. Dean puffs up, obviously having taken offence. You have to hold in a laugh at his face.   
“Mechanics is a lot harder than typing shit into a fancy shmancy laptop!” 

John laughs loudly as he turns and sets a plate of food in front of you.   
“Even worse. She does an easier job than you and makes more money.” John shrugs, grinning widely.   
“Whatever. When are you leaving.” Dean grumbles. It was hilarious seeing this side of Dean. He’d always had a devil-may-care attitude and came off emotionally unavailable, so this was totally new to you. 

You eat your breakfast in near silence, perfectly satisfied with listening to the banter between John and Dean. You finish and before you can stand to take your plate to the sink, John takes it for you. You thank him appreciatively, not missing the way he grazes his hand with yours as he takes the plate. You stand anyway, brushing your hands off.   
“I better get going guys, I’ve got work to do.” This isn’t necessarily true, but you don’t want to impede on the two any further. 

“You need a ride?” John asks. You shake your head.  
“I drove, remember?”   
“Ah.” John smiles knowingly.   
“Anyway, it was cool spending the night with you guys. Hope everything goes well on your business trip, John.” You say, feeling a little awkward. Dean stands and places a hand on the small of your back.   
“I’ll show you out.” You give John a little wave as you leave the kitchen with Dean. 

By the door, you slide your sneakers on as Dean rambles on about his dad being annoying and intruding on your night.   
“I had fun. Your dad is cool.” You reassure him, a twinge of guilt reminding you of what you did with John in the living room last night.   
“I guess. I’ll call you and I can make up for it.” Dean smirks, a suggestive tone to his voice.   
“Yeah.” You reply, avoiding eye contact. “See you around.” 

You leave the apartment hurriedly, wanting to get home as soon as possible. It had been an odd and confusing ordeal, you needed a shower in your own place. You drove a little faster than you were supposed to on the way back, but you were desperately trying not to think about John. All the two of you had done was kiss and he was weighing heavier on your mind than Dean ever had. You had gotten far more than you bargained for, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t warned you. 

You’d underestimated John Winchester.


End file.
